Evering smiled, deliberately misunderstanding him. “I promise you we’ll have more than enough time to discuss our business.”
“It must be quite lonely here. I should think you’d open your London house for the summer,” Penrith went on as he set his cup down on the table and accepted the plate Evering was holding out to him.
“Not in summer. That’s the best season for us. Next winter perhaps.” Evering shrugged. “That is to say, if I am luckier in my investments than I was the last time and can afford to open the London house again. Surprisingly enough, I’ve never found it lonely here.
Perhaps because I was born in this house.”
He searched Penrith’s face for signs of—what? Something, anything—a conscience, a reason to put a stop to what he was about to do.
But all he read there was impatience and greed.
“I brought the papers you asked for. I think, given the state of business these days, that we’ve got something to offer. Something that might well recoup that earlier loss. Something with long-term potential, and an excellent rate of return.”
“That would certainly be desirable. Frankly, I could use the income. But you told me much the same story the last time, and look where it led.”
“Yes, well, we apologized for the Cumberline stocks. No one was more surprised than I when they went down with a crash. I lost money myself.”
Evering raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He had heard rumors that Penrith and his partner had had a miraculous escape. A word of warning in the right ear at the right time . . . But not passed on to clients. Not this client, at least.
Penrith took his filled plate to the foot of the table and sat down, picking up his serviette. “I say, this is a wonderful spread. We’re still trying to get decent food in London. You have a fine cook, as well. My compliments.”
They ate their meal in a drift of light, stilted conversation, touching on events in London, the state of the economy, the worsening situation in Russia.
“No money to be made there,” Penrith said with a sigh. “You’d think, given their way of looking at land reform, that they’d put it to good use. In my view, they’re going to be hard-pressed to feed their own people. And their factories, such as they are, produce only shoddy goods. Europe isn’t going to be back on its feet for another dozen years, if I’m any judge. But there are opportunities in South America. Cattle. Coffee. Mines. That sort of thing. It’s what I intend to talk to you about.”
Thus far Penrith had made no mention of his business partner, and the omission was glaring. Evering brought him up instead.
“And what is Quarles doing, to keep himself out of trouble?”
Penrith grimaced. “I daresay he manages. We no longer handle joint ventures. Which is why you contacted me, I think? You never liked Quarles.”
Nor you, Evering thought, but was silent.
They finished their meal and adjourned to the study. It too looked out across the sea, but there were other islands in this direction, scattered blue smudges. Penrith glanced toward the long bank of mist one more time before sitting down. There was some anxiety in his face, as if he was trying to judge how far it had advanced since last he had measured it.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Evering asked.
“By all means.”
The next two hours were spent in intense exposition of the properties that Penrith had brought for discussion.
Evering listened carefully to everything he was told, then sat back with a frown.
“I don’t know—” He pulled at his lower lip, a study in uncertainty.
Penrith said persuasively, “It’s the best opportunity I can see to improve your position. I like what’s here, and I have a feeling that we’re moving into a decade of handsome rewards for the farsighted investor.”
Evering said, “Yes, yes. You’ve done your work well. Still—would you mind leaving these papers here for a week? I’m to travel to Kent shortly, and I can bring them to you with my decision.” He smiled wryly. “I’ve learned to be careful, you see.”
“Caution is important. There are no guarantees that what I tell you will be right in five or seven years’ time. However, time is something we must consider as well. I suggest you make your decision within the fortnight. Or we stand to lose as the shares go up. They aren’t going to be overlooked for long, I can assure you.”
Evering studied the earnest, handsome face. Penrith, fair and tall and very presentable, gave the impression of coming from old money, and it stood him in good stead, this impression. More than one woman and many a man had fallen for this quality and trusted the advice tripping so lightly from his tongue. In their partnership, Penrith had been the velvet glove, Quarles the iron hand, though Quarles could be very pleasant when it served his purposes. And very coldblooded when it didn’t.
The contrast between the two men was something Evering hadn’t been prepared for when first he met them. One obviously a gentleman, the other a blunt Yorkshire man with unreadable eyes and a tight mouth. In God’s name, what had drawn them together in South Africa, much less kept them together all these years? He couldn’t fathom what it was, unless it was the strength of Quarles’s personality.
Weaker men were often drawn to that. If Quarles had manipulated Penrith, surely he himself could manage it as well. And yet the weak could be as cruel as the strong, he’d had cause to know in his own mother. It was the main reason why Evering had chosen Penrith as his penny. Quarles would not be as easily influenced.
“I assure you, I’m as eager as you to see this under way. But—well, I’d feel better if I had a little time to consider.”
Penrith nodded. “Suit yourself.” Though it was clear that he was not pleased about being put off. He got up and stretched, walking to the window, staring worriedly at the fog bank. Evering swore silently at the distraction, cursing the weather.
Penrith turned to his host. “When did you say the mail boat comes back this way?”
Evering glanced at his watch. “It should be here within a quarter of an hour. It makes the rounds of the inhabited islands before going back to the mainland. Naturally it depends on how much mail and how many passengers there are on a given run, but for the most part, it keeps to its schedule.”
“That’s a small vessel to take on storms in some twenty-eight miles of open water. It’s a wonder anyone has the courage to live this far out.”
“Think of it as our moat. At any rate, the master is a good man.
He can read the weather the way you’d read a book. Many of us have made the crossing on our own in heavy seas, when there’s no other way.”
“All the same, I’ll take my chance on dry land, thank you.”
Evering laughed and got to his feet. Joining Penrith at the window, he said, “Yes, in fact, there the boat is now, pulling around the headland. You’ve got about twenty minutes before you need to be at the harbor. I’ll walk you down. Good exercise. I’ve become quite fond of taking my constitutional earlier this time of year. Before the heat builds. Come along, then. Have everything there, do you?”
Penrith had shoved the remaining papers back into his case, his eagerness to be away getting ahead of his professional manner. “Yes, all here.” He cast a last glance at the spread of unsigned documents on the table and added, “You will let me know, won’t you? What you decide to do?”
“I give you my word,” Evering assured him.
They walked out together, taking the shell path through the flower beds to the ornate garden gate where the island’s only road crossed the track down to the harbor. But as they passed through the gate, Evering paused in the middle of the road. Penrith, a little ahead, turned and said, “Aren’t you coming the rest of the way?”